


Diplomatic Impunity

by LadyGraceGrey



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:57:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4925866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGraceGrey/pseuds/LadyGraceGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So now she is Sheogorath... Great. And now he is Jyggalag. Double great. Oh and now Martin knows... What else can go wrong?! </p>
<p>How about it fact that the Shivering Isles is still a realm that needs ruled, and there is something amiss in Tamriel that may or may not be her fault. </p>
<p>As some would say... Well shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Working From Home

**Author's Note:**

> Spawned from my love of this game and my HeadCanon about the Dwemer. This Fic will span both Oblivion and Skyrim, and we are jumping in the middle. Lots of pairings, but not all of them happy or healthy. 
> 
> Also I have no actual creativity and my muse demands to be used in every Fic.

Diplomatic impunity

The wind howled, brittle and cold against the slates in her house. Not that it mattered terribly. She was always cold now, the vampiric blood in her veins keeping her from warmth as well as proper breath. She could fake it of course, though that was exhausting on her body. Haskel glowered at her as he stood like an ever present gargoyle... Or something to that effect. Damnation but her mind was a mess.

Papers and maps spread over the worn table that served as her only work space. Haskel's arms were similarly laden, much to his annoyance. "Really my Lord Sheogorath, if you would merely return to your realm we can forget about using these primitive methods." His monotone giving way just slightly to that hitch and squeal of frustration and she grinned as she pushed her spectacles better on her nose. 

"And miss feeling like a true war Lord?! Perish the thought! Oh... Oh actually that is a splendid idea, can we murder thoughts yet or can we just change them about a bit?" 

Her own voice sounded foreign in her ears, not even aware of her words fully. They simply spilled as they liked when she was this tired. And she was always tired. 

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. The heavy Raiments of her position settling heavier on her shoulders. They were lovely... But she was weak and hungry. She hadn't fed in days and it was beginning to show in her face. Working for Martin didn't leave much room for her own care. She had agonized over that last Deadric artifact, how to give it to him, when to give it to him... That and the irritating story that went with the affair. If she ever got her hands on that Bastard she would ring his neck! 

By him she meant Sanguine, who even now laid gifts and favors on her bed every night to try and woo her into some marriage or something. She hadn't ever meant to let him know the truth of her now Divine or maybe Damned nature. It just... Well no point now. 

She had given up so much to ruling this realm of hers. And it wasn't even hers to keep, she knew that. When Jyggalag was finished with his own wandering, she had no delusions that he would return with the desire to reclaim his throne. Or realm... Or possibly just reclaim her. They had a... Complicated relationship after all. She seriously doubted he would leave things as they were. Knowing him, he was feeling supremely over balanced in his newly realized role. He needed her to be his other half. Frankly, she needed him too.

She had made the decision to become immortal as she could, knowing her form would change and meld after her mortal life span ran it's course. She had no desire to lose herself like that. So many of her fellows had, it made her heart sick. 

Now she had other problems than her love life and interpersonal relationships with her new family. She glanced once again at the reports. Relmyna had been thorough as always. The element of flesh was in it's final stages of refinement as an actual art form, among other things. The sacrifices had been necessary, but the cost had been lower than they expected which was a relief. What was troubling... Was the origins of the science itself. 

Mistress Verenim was adamant that it had been she that discovered the science. But a few loose lipped comments to her assistant, and it seems that was not true. She had discovered it, perfected it, but she wasn't the first. The dishonesty was enough to warrant her death according to the laws of the land. But that being said she was also a resource that wasn't to be lightly wasted. 

Indeed, she had repented, and merely asked to be given a new purpose. With the infighting between the Deadric Princes and their followers... It was easy to see a need for repurposing the flesh of the fallen. And so her Realm and Coffers had grown. Skooma no longer needed to be the main trade meant more of the citizens were happily keeping it rather than selling it. And that of course meant, more citizens flocking to the Shivering Isles and out of Tamriel. A win win for all. 

But with those coming in, came the problems of what came out. Information on the Art of the Element of Flesh being one. One that may have costly repercussions. One that now she was combing Tamriel to find it's ripple effect. And she knew there would be one. 

She sighed and pushed up from her table, motioning for Haskel to simply dump his burden for her to look at later, and pacing to fill her goblet of wine from the small nightstand. 

"So when is this... Ball I am to attend? You know I can't be gone long Haskel, I have work to do here too." She addressed him wearily as she leaned against the stone wall and sipped the overly fruity drink. She cringed, her stomach rebelling the drink in it's lack of suitable sustenance. Haskel shook his head at her and pulled out the white envelope he had originally come to deliver. 

"In two weeks time, and will take up to a month." He told her as she took the Invitation with a scowl. 

"Then I will arrive fashionably late, leave early, and arrive again. In all I will only go twice and stay for short times." She told him, and had to smirk at his chuckle. 

"That sounds very well my Lord Sheo..." 

The door slammed open, howling wind and snow bursting through the room and scattering papers. Haskel rushed to clean them, ever as the goblet of wine was dropped and a summoned Mazken appeared with a way of the woman's hand. A figure all but fell in the door and turned to slam it closed as her guard stalked up silently behind the intruder. 

"By the Divines it's really picking up out there! Grainne I didn't mean to bother you, it's about that arti...fact.... What the blazes is this?!" 

Martin hadn't stopped talking as he had slammed the bolt shut and turned to face Grainne. Only to find a flustered Haskel with armloads of paper, and a murderous looking... Dark elf?! No... Something else. And Grainne dressed like a Queen but looking gaunt and pale as death, her normal grey eyes now blood red. He slammed himself back against the door and shouted. 

"Answer me! What is this?!" 

The Mazken raised her wicked blade to his chest and sneered. "You will not address my Lord like that!" 

Grainne waved her hand and the sword clattered to the ground as the Mazken disappeared. She sighed, and glanced at Haskel. "You may go... We will continue this later." 

Haskel fumed and dropped his papers, looking less composed than she had ever seen him. "Sheogorath! I really must protest! Your guard..." 

"SILENCE! BEGONE!" 

She had shouted at him, her voice cracking over the edges of her tone as she fought for the strength to stand. He was gone. In that small cold house was only her... And Martin. 

She turned to him, her body swaying with exhausting. The magic that had all taken... This long day... Everything catching up to her. 

"M-martin... I can explain..." 

But she wouldn't explain, oh no. The famous Hero of Kvatch, the Fabled Prince of Madness, the supposed woman named Grace in the eldest tongues.... Fell to the floor as blackness took her.


	2. Reckless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some decisions seem oh so logical when one is drunk. Or starving. Or in love.

Shudders wracked her too thin frame as she came too with a gasping breath. She felt lightheaded and dizzy of course, but more than that she felt the tinge of warmth in her veins. The whole house felt warmer, from the furs draped about her body as she lay in her plush bed, to the roaring fire in the fireplace. It all felt warm, not just that but hot! She pushed the blankets off her in a rush, uncaring that they fell to the floor in a heap as she tried to stand and run to open a door. 

She couldn't breathe! It was too much, too muggy. Copper tinged the air and her body fought against her to follow the smell and feed. Finally feed... The urge was nearly overwhelming. 

Arms grasped around her waist as she nearly fell to the floor. She didn't even see anyone else in the room in her haze of bloodlust and the cloudy vision that came with it.

"Let me go! Please, I can't.." She strained against the hold, needing to get out of the house, needing to be in the cold. 

"Shh... Hush, Grace hush. Calm down. I'm sorry, I should have worked faster. Shh, there's a girl." Martin's calm soothing voice ghosting over her senses forced her to relax. She felt more than saw him move sweat plastered strands of hair from her face as he held her firmly to keep her still. 

"Martin?! Please, you have to let me... It's smells like.." 

"Blood, I know. Hush Grace. You haven't fed in a long time. You need to calm down." He interrupted her and gently turned her about so he could study her face. She couldn't see his features through the greying haze. But he was too warm and she could see every pulse of his veins. She tried to pull away from him. 

"You have to let me go, I don't want to hurt you. Please?" She bit her lip as she pulled away. But he held her firmly and she heard him chuckle. "I don't think so. Besides it'll get cold if you don't drink soon." 

That stopped her in her tracks. Blearily she tried to look at him. Tried to understand what he was saying. Why did it smell so strongly of fresh blood? Why was he holding her from leaving... And more importantly how did he know what she needed so well?! Alarmed now she allowed her full senses to flair to life, her vision taking form of seeing his heart, the warmth, his blood... And where it trickled out of his upper arm. She sucked in a breath. 

"What have you done?! Martin you can be serious!" She cringed as her words hissed more than they were clear. Her teeth already longer than she liked just with the heady blend in the air. And him so close... 

She shook her head and pushed him away with all her strength. But he was stronger and pulled her to him to lift her up in his arms and carry her to the bed again. "Not a chance I am letting you go out there. You know your instincts will take over as soon as you are outside. We can't have a slaughter Grace. Besides, I already did what I had to. You won't feed from me, even I am not the stupid."

He was so very calm, no nonsense even as he set her gently on the bed and moved back to grasp something from the table. She couldn't see it well, but she watched him move even as she longed to strip off all her heavy clothing. It was still unbearably hot. 

She looked down at her shaking hands, and felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She hadn't intended him to ever even know! And now he had... She wasn't stupid. A cut like that was practiced. He had done this before. She knew he had been a Devotee of Sanguine, and she knew he had run from it. Now he had filled a cup with his own blood just to keep her alive. And this just moments after learning the ugly truth of her. His kindness floored her, she didn't deserve it. She had no idea how to handle this!

Her self loathing was cut short as he returned and pressed a goblet to her hands. They shook so hard she nearly sobbed. She would spill it if she tried. She didn't want to ask him... And he didn't let her. He cursed, actually cursed! He sat on the bed and tipped her face upwards, pressing the goblet to her lips. 

"Sorry, I didn't think... You really have gone too long haven't you? Damnation Grace! You should have said something!" He scolded her even as he gently tipped the goblet and those first warm drops of copper and salt hit her tongue. She shivered, mouth opening to lap against the rim. She fought the instinct to guzzle it. But it was good, so very good and she hadn't even realized how starved she had been. 

Her vision whited out as she took the first swallow, and she moaned softly. The aches of her body seeming less and less, even though she knew it would take more time. But the mind was an incredible thing, it already decided for her what she needed and was rewarding her now with a rush of arousal. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks as she pushed the goblet and his hand gently away. She needed to take this slow... She was close to being overcome. 

Her eyes fluttered open, bleary still but better now, she could at least see his face. But she didn't know she wanted to. The revulsion that would be clear, the judgment. She was prepared for what she saw. Tenderness, concern, it etched itself over his handsome features clear as day and her now beating heart thumped painfully. She looked away. 

"Finish it. When you can stand, I'll take you to the temple. We can cure you, we can.." "No!" She shouting in her panic, red eyes going wide and gazing at him with fear as she scooted back in the bed. As if he would pick her up like he did before and drag her out that door. His brow furrowed and he reached for her and she flinched back. But his hand closed over hers, and he squeezed it gentle. 

"You can't possibly want this... Is it them? Those people that were here before? Did they do this to you?!" His voice shook with something she didn't recognize and her gaze snapped up to his. He set his jaw, fury burning in his eyes. She winced, he was angry with her. Of course he would be. Her hand shook as she reached for the goblet to take it from him. She wouldn't waste the gift he had given her... As undeserving as she was. 

And still he smiled, she could hear it in his huff of air as he handed it to her, wrapping his warm hands over her own and bringing their clasped one to steady it. She didn't deserve any of this. She felt tears slip down her cheeks as she brought the cup to her lips, him guiding her so she wouldn't spill. 

She drank... Freddy now, needing the clarity of mind, uncaring for the little sounds of pleasure she let slips as she drained the cup. The last drop she licked from the rim, sighing happily as he lifted the cup away. Her eyes had closed again, and she simply wanted sleep now. Her belly full, and the warmth of her body no longer painful. In the past, she had always taken from dead men. And normally sick or dying of other causes. The first being a skooma addict and she nearly shuddered at the memory. Martin saw her frame tense and set the goblet aside to scoot closer on the bed and cup her face. 

"All you alright? Was that enough? I'm sorry, it's been a long time since I have done this. I can.." She giggled, her eyes blinking open to glance at him as he fussed over her. She felt drunk, and she didn't want that to go away. She knew it would. Her own hands came up to cup his face and his eyes widened as he realized how close they were. 

"I'm fine. You are so lovely to me.." She slurred a little, giggling at the way his face flushed and his heartbeat sped. She could smell him now. Still the lingering smell of his blood. It had been heady, thick and salty but there were other things too. Like the taste of Earth, the Pine trees that grew so thickly here. A bit like the winter frosts. He was lovely. 

And she was drunk. Off of his blood that he gave her even though she was the worst scum of the world. The realization sobered her and she dropped her hands and glanced away. As much as she could with his hands still on her face. Gingerly she removed them and held them in her lap. 

"You... Will be wanting answers. To start, no I am not forced to stay this way. I don't want it. But I have to. I.... I am Sheogorath now. I have a realm to rule and people that count on me." She had felt his hands stiffen as she spoke, halting and soft but gaining strength. She let him pull away, but her heart felt like it went with him. She cursed internally. Stupid Vampires and their fixations. This wouldn't do, she knew the attachments one could form after feeding. This was why she preferred the dead... Even if they did make her sick for days afterwards. She sighed and straightened her posture. He deserved to know.

"I can't be human anymore. I don't know for how long I will be needed to be the Prince of Madness, and my own mortal lifespan will fade as will my mind if I can't live long enough. So... I am stuck like this." She gestured vaguely to herself and finally risked a glance at him. He was staring into space, his jaw tensing and relaxing as he worked out some thoughts of his own. His hand came up to touch his lips as he thought, a nervous habit she had noticed. Only now of course she would notice it better. Her damnable fixation, that would make this more difficult in the long run. Best to explain and then leave. Go somewhere and do something to give them distance. 

She sighed and swung her feet off the bed, testing her strength before making to stand. She was still weak... But not so much now. His blood had been strong. Stronger than most. Belated it hit her...

He had given her Septem blood. She glanced at him, her ire covering over her shame. He just... Threw that away! Offered it freely?! That was a precious thing! 

"Tell me you haven't done that for others?! Martin that was reckless!!" She hissed at him, and that broke his train of thought. He looked at her shocked before his own gaze turned steely. 

"Reckless... You, want to lecture me?! On being reckless! The Prince of Madness! You went out and became the Void taken Prince Of Madness?! How is that not reckless?!" He was shouting, standing to his feet and advancing on her with fury she had never seen the normally calm man show. She backed up a step before strapping steel to her spine and lifting her chin in defiance of his anger. 

"I did what I bloody had to! There is a balance to all things, you of all people should know that!" She spat right back at him. How dare he question her actions! After all she had done, after all the things he wasn't even aware of that she had done! For him, for the world! Everything she had given up for this stupid cause she didn't even know would succeed. It made her blood boil that he would still question her. And how irrational it seemed, but she didn't care. 

"You are mad! You foolish, insane woman. How could you possibly think this was the right decision for anyone?! You are absolutely insane and reckless and foolish and vexatious and.. Oblivion take me, I am so much worse." He hadn't stop advancing on her, now towering above her with determination and anger mixing in his bright blue eyes and she opened her mouth to reply, a snark on the tip of her tongue, one that died in her throat as his hands came up to cup her face, his lips crashing onto hers.


	3. Enthralled

His lips were warm and soft, though chapped from the brutal cold and the equally brutal way his bit them while he read. All things that filled her very soul it seemed as she gasped and her hands flew to grasp his broad shoulders. She met his kiss with a passion of her own. Hot and heady and desperation brought to bare with the sudden contact. Her tongue laved at his lower lip and he opened for her with a groan. Their tongue dueled, slick muscles sliding and tangling with one another as panting moans spilled from them. She couldn't even say who moaned first, or distinguish her own voice from his. 

She clung to him, drinking in every drop of passion he gave her. He was shaking now, she could feel it under her palms as the subtle muscles shifted. Or was that her hands that shook with the force of her arousal. It spiked through her and she was left nearly blinded by the intensity. 

All too soon he pulled away, panting for air. She wasn't much better, her breasts heaving as she fought to close the distance again. Only to have his hands slid over her sides to grasp her waist and hold her back. 

"Grace... This... By the Nine I can't.."

His voice rough and raw, low and husky and oh so tempting forced her back to herself. This wasn't like him. He should be furious. Maybe he still was, but this wasn't the actions of the Martin she knew. She glanced at his eyes, searching desperately and alarmed for the signs she dreaded. 

It shouldn't be possible! He had been careful in his blood letting, her fangs and the poison in her body hadn't touched him! If he was a thrall now... She would never forgive herself. 

But he looked at her, with heat yes, with longing. It wasn't the glassy eyed look of a man bent to her will. She released a shuddering breath she didn't know she had held and pushed her palms flat against his shoulders to put more distance between them. He let her go, his hands curling at his sides as his jaw tensed. 

"I... Shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry, it won't happen again. Forgive me Grainne." 

She winced at the use of her name. She had liked it so much better when he called her Grace, a little pet name that only he used. She cringed as if struck, and she felt as if she had been. But this... This was the reaction she expected. Him to be cool, distant with her. She stepped back and turned from him, her eyes frantically looking for anything to distract herself from the way her heart clenched. 

"No... The fault is also mine. You know the bonds that form with feeding. I wasn't... Myself. I apologize. It won't happen again... Your Highness." She gritted out as she paced to her work table. She was stable now, no reason to not get back to work. The sooner she did, the sooner she could leave. She wasn't even sure if what she had told him was completely a lie... But that hardly mattered.

Heaving a sigh she leaned over the table and braced herself on it as her eyes skated listlessly over her work. She had no desire to do any of it. She had all the desire in the world to turn around, shuck her clothing and be clothed in his body heat on the bed instead. To writhe under him as he took his pleasure from her... It wouldn't do to focus on that now, but it wasn't an easy thing to quiet. 

She didn't glance back at him. She didn't see the flash of hurt, or the strain of guilt that crossed his features. She did feel him step behind her, to look at the papers and maps in earnest now. 

"I didn't remember.... I can see now why you were angry. That was reckless of me." His mumbled over her shoulder as he peered down at the nearest map. He sighed and she fought a shiver at how his breath ghosted over her ear. "What is all this? It looks like you have maps of all Tamriel. And some of these are... Ancient!" The awe in his voice made her smile. She pushed away from the desk to turn to face him. This they could talk about. Though... Not with him so bloody close to her! 

She found them once again nearly touching noses, and his eyes widened at their proximity. When had he moved so close again? It seemed that they would continually be making things awkward so long as he couldn't grasp simple things like personal space. Clearing his throat he sidestepped around her and focused on a random paper. 

She snorted as she took the paper from his hands and turned it rightside up for him. "There are some advantages to being a Deadric Prince. A library for the ages is one of them. But yes, this is most of Tamriel." 

She stepped away from him to pace to her liquor cabinet and busy herself with finding glasses and wine. If they were going to... Talk, well she at least needed something other than the sweet taste of his blood on her tongue. She brought back the bottle and two glasses, uncorking it with her teeth as she shuffled a few things to set down the two cups. 

Martin still was reading the paper, notes on the new proposed ways of advancing the Element of Flesh as a science as she recalled. He barely nodded at her as she handed him a filled cup and he absently pulled a chair closer to sit on. She chuckled and shook her head, taking a sip from her own glass and she cast about for her spectacles. She didn't have them on when she woke up. 

"Nightstand." Martin muttered, eyes never leaving the page and she smiled. Well that was... New. Domestic almost. She shook the thought and went to grab them. Tying up her hair as she came back. By then he had moved on to the next missive, she glanced over his shoulder and frowned. The latest reports of the occupancy problems within the outskirt townships. The influx of people had proven... Well a tad problematic. 

Idly she wondered if he shouldn't be privy to this much information. It was the specific work for the Lord of the Shivering Isles... But no harm in trusting him she supposed. Sighing she topped off their glasses and grabbed the only other chair to pull it over for her to sit with him. 

"What you are reading are the... Minor issues. At least comparatively. Right now, I am trying to track down the ramifications for stolen information. Though which party stole it first... Or what or where I am even looking for is also still a mystery." Martin looked up with brows raised at that and she sighed and drained her glass. This would be a longer tale. 

They talked well into the morning. She recounted her journey through the Shivering Isles, the people she had met along the way, and the intricate hierarchy of the realm. She told him of Jyggalag... Not all of it. She was allowed some privacy after all. But his return and the breaking of his curse which led her to assuming the role he abandoned. She told him of the improvements she had made, and the issue they discovered. Ending on the note of the people that had left her Realm, and the sudden influx of adventurers delving into ruins she had records of some sort of contact being established by the previous Prince of Madness... But those records didn't say what for. 

And the map of those contacts extended under all of Tamriel, from here in Cyrodil all the way to the nation of Skyrim. All underground. She wasn't sure what it meant yet, and her own forces had little luck finding any actual people that would dwell in those ruins. Just... Dead ruins. Martin listened to it all, nodding and asking questions as he thought of them. In the end even offering witty commentary on several of her failed debacles in her attempts at exploring those ruins. 

They laughed... Like nothing was wrong. Like nothing had changed. And she teased him about someday him being the one with maps and paperwork strewn everywhere. 

That was where it all changed. In just a moment they were tense and awkward again, draining glasses in silence only to refill them in turn. Eventually they both were drunk. Drunk and broody. Not the best combination for either of them. Several times they tried to talk of other things. The latest artifact for one thing. But that just ended in them both feeling the dread and finality of their situations.

If there wasn't a huge gap between them and their respective positions before, now it was unbreakable distance. Future Emperor and the Deadric Prince cursed with Vampirism sat in terse silence drinking the day away... A picture of the future for Tamriel and it wasn't pretty. 

Grainne snorts a laugh into her drink at the thought. And Martin arch a brow as the sound broke the cloistering quiet. "What? Something on my face?" He asked her, setting down his cup and running a hand over his face to rid himself of invisible crumbs. She giggled and took another long pull. 

"Sadly nothing anymore.." She mumbled without thinking. She choked on her drink as she realized it was less of a mumble and more a seemingly loud declaration of her mind being firmly in the gutter. Coughing she glanced nervously over at Martin to see if he caught it. But the smirk on his face... He had. And she forgot to breathe. 

"Oh is that so. What, pray tell, should be one my face then Grace?" Was it the drink that made his voice so low all of a sudden? Or her face flushing?! Yes... Definitively the drink and not the way he moved his glass out of the way and was leaning closer to her. Absolutely not the way his eyes darkened or his lips curled into a salacious smile. And Oblivion have mercy on her soul it was for sure not that thing he did with licking his lips and staring at hers. 

She swallowed hard, and tried to look away, but couldn't for the life of her manage it. His nose nearly brushed hers, she didn't even notice her own cup being taking from now limp hands and her traitorous body leaning towards his. "Tell me my dear lady, what should be on my face again?" He chuckled, his breath fawning over her lips as he spoke softly. Goading her. He was... Actually goading her! But she thought... 

"Y-you said you didn't want... I... Thought that... Shit, Martin don't tease me!" She suddenly pulled herself away from him, turning and nearly running to the door. Her chair fell backwards in her haste but she didn't care as she yanked the door open and the Burst of cold washed over her. Her skin was too warm again, the promise of what he offered there... It wasn't a real offer. He was changed something had changed and the only word that rang through her head chilled her to the bone. 

Thrall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is not beta read. If you find error let me know? Comments make the muse happy!!


	4. What Was Lost

She slipped on the snow as she ran, heedless of the people still milling about as she fled. She couldn't be there right now. Not when she wanted him, the fixation of the bond she had formed not yet having abated. She wasn't sure it ever would. 

And that frightened her. She had no way of knowing if she would have wanted him before. No way of separating her chaotic thoughts and warring emotions from past to present. And him… what of his change of heart. Before all this, before Jyggalag and her Vampirism, she had admired him she was sure of it. But as friends, comrades! Not…

She slipped on the snow and landed hard against the wooden wall of one of many of the homes that dotted Bruma. She cried out in pain as the bruise against her thigh formed nearly instantly. That cause panic to claw at her throat. She was still recovering! She couldn't afford precious blood in an injury, even something like a bruise would drain her all over again. 

Hunger, for him, for sustenance, it swirled through her core as she pushed herself up weakly. Only to have warm arms wrap around her waist and her body pressed back against the harsh wood of the wall. 

“You didn't need to run Grace. I do want you, I’m no thrall of yours.” His voice purred in her ear and she stiffened. Surely he was chilled in this storm! He must be mad! Drunk… something! But his insistent pressing against her back revealed the truth of the matter. He did want her. 

“But.. Why? Why now of all times?!” She gasped as his hand made short work of slipping beneath the Collar of her dress, his lips grazing her ear as he chuckled. 

“The only thing that stopped me before.. Was the fear of having children. Now that is gone.” 

Her hazy mind mulled over his words as she fought against that same rising heat. And then she was cold. Her heart stopped and she sucked in a breath. Using strength she didn't know she had she pushed back against him and spun to face him. Disbelief colored her features as she fought panic. 

“What… what do you mean?! What are you saying?!” She shouted at him, and his face fell. He stepped forward to grasp her shoulders, but she couldn't stand the touch. She shoved him back. “ANSWER ME!” 

He brought up his hands. “You… didn't know. Vampires can't have children Grainne.” 

She stumbled back against the wall, her hands flying to her stomach, clutching at what she never knew she would miss. Tears and revulsion marred her too white face as she let slip a sob of hurt. “No… that… no!” 

She felt his hand under her chin, lifting her face to his. When he moved she didn't know. But his smile… it wasn't gentle. It was a smirk and he shook his head. “Let me comfort you. Now you are free to be with me…” 

Her mind screamed. Torn between her fixation and the grief of this new revelation. Did that mean he loved her? He had wanted her? Then why… 

But she wanted to give in, she wanted to be held and loved. But as she closed her eyes it wasn't his face she pictured. She placed her hands on his chest to shove him back and he only pressed forward. And she couldn't really fight him. Not as he still held the bond of his blood. 

He grunting… pained? And slumped down before her, his eyes screwing shut as his hands reached to his head clutching at it. Confused she watched. But she couldn't understand…

“I’m going to say the lass doesn't want ye. And that someones taken advantage of her. Tsk, tsk… I’ve half a mind to end you boyo. But then.. She had that half of me now.” 

She knew that voice, her heart leapt to hear that rough baroque cutting through wind and snow. She snapped her gaze up to meet his golden eyes. He stood just behind them. His hair nearly as white as the snow and longer than last she saw. He wore armor, crystal silver and cut to fit his body like the sleek elven armor she had seen before. But his face, a mask of fury. In his hand he held an orb of swirling violet power. She could see tendrils of power in flux going from Martins hunched form and the orb. 

She gasped. “Jyggalag no! You can't! He needs his mind!” She stepped around Martin to the man she had missed so. The one she thought she would never see again. Her own hand reached out to lower his arm, and her eyes locked with his. The power dissipated and a soft look crossed his rugged face as he instead brought his hand up to her cheek. 

“I’m sorry dear… I didn know what you’d done. Iffn I had… let’s go home.” 

She scooped her up and she felt the pull of the gates open as he took her away. 

But she wasn't so sure she had wanted to go..

**Author's Note:**

> Okay... So I can't seem to write a first chapter without someone fainting. Oops!! Comments pretty please?


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